Big Bright Green Pleasure Machine
by Coldpaws
Summary: 2007 Movieverse: Do you sleep alone when other sleep in pairs? Well there's no need to complain, we'll eliminate your pain, we can neutralize your brain, you’ll feel just fine, now! aka Ratchet gets some lovin' Pairings: Ratchet/Everyone; A cracky fic


Title: Big Bright Green Pleasure Machine  
Pairings: Ratchet/Everyone  
Genre: Humor (crack)  
Rating: PG-13  
Wordcount: 809

**Big Bright Green Pleasure Machine**

* * *

_Do you sleep alone when other sleep in pairs?_

_Well there's no need to complain,_

_We'll eliminate your pain._

_We can neutralize your brain._

_You'll feel just fine_

_Now._

* * *

Ironhide clanked into the brilliantly shining new med-bay. Ratchet didn't even bother remonstrating him for the trail of mud dripping from tire treads, pointing him towards the (so beautifully _clean_) medical berth. 

"So what is it this time? Knee pads worn down again? Hip joint weld chafing? Or something new?" At the last, Ratchet gave a glare and a scowl.

"Dislocated a finger sparring with 'Bee. It popped back together, but hasn't been feeling right." 

Ratchet moved forward obligingly to investigate the proffered right hand. It was only as he took the hand that he remembered _Bumblebee's been on a 'road-trip' with Sam Witwicky for over a we-_

And before he could finish the thought, Ironhide had firmly clasped both of his more delicate, medical hands in his and pulled him in. 

"I came in because I knew you were a master with hands." he said, cueing the door locked and the lights off.

"What do you think you're doing, fragger! You drag mud and countless bacterium into my pristine medbay for…" But Ratchet's protests quickly died off as Ironhide began working his free hand up into the medic's chassis, wrapping one leg around the medic's and massaging it with a rotating tire (_filthy, but o-oh)_.�

* * *

"Ratchet, may we speak privately?" Optimus had been rather quiet since the battle from mission city (in one of _those damned mopey moods again_), so any possibility of getting the guilt-complexed fragger to open up couldn't be turned down. So, after a day spent mopping and polishing the med-bay and not much else, Ratchet strode outside to where his leader sat absorbing solar energy.

"Do you believe we are prepared for the new arrivals?" Optimus asked as he unfolded from his vehicle form.

Ratchet's vents released a huff of air. "I don't think we'll ever be prepared for those slaggers," he mumbled, before continuing, "but we've got space, and plenty of energon, if not enough medical supplies."

"Energon, you say?"

"Ironhide insisted I complete the converter. We've got a few dozen cubes now, various different grades, and a few new 'Earth' flavors courtesy of Bumblebee."

At that, Optimus clasped one massive hand on his shoulder and invited him back to his quarters "to partake of some high grade in celebration of their good fortunes." Not what Ratchet had been expecting of this conversation, but after downing a couple of "Strong Soys" (Bumblebee: they're sustainable!) he wasn't really in any mood to care. 

Of course, Optimus fondling his front grill was bound to change that. 

"Prime!"

"There's more than one way to celebrate, Ratchet." Ratchet's attempts to push him away turned into a grab for stability, one hand clasping a smokestack and the other Optimus' windshield, "I've heard you're good at making fireworks." Ratchet let out a moan, and later, a siren.

* * *

"_Oo, I want you, I don't know if I need you, but oo I'd die to find out!_" 

As Savage Garden comes blasting out of Bumblebee's speakers 3 days later, Ratchet wonders what the frag is going on. Or tries to, as Bee's bombarding his body with touches and his com with rushed, romantic, hungry, horny signals.

* * *

Ratchet's reluctant to be in the welcoming party for their comrades, but Bumblebee's whining combined with the prospect of seeing Wheeljack again after so long brings him out to the mesa they'd chosen as a landing site.

Bee's rushing out before the craters have even cooled, driving in a loose figure eight around two of them, while Ratchet heads straight for a third, stretching his scanners to their limits, and Prime and Ironhide make their way more leisurely. A few minutes later, two large, dented protoforms and a smaller singed one stand before Prime.

As he finishes giving a brief explanation of the Autobot's new situation, he turns to Wheeljack and says, "It's good to see old friends again."

And it clicks.

"You- I- Maybe Ironhide, but you, Prime? And corrupting little Bee!" He's so infuriated about their little scam he's a little worried he's going to shake out of his bolts.

"Come now Ratchet, surely you won't begrudge us a last bit of fun before you're taken forever? You won't be too upset with us for, shall we say, keeping him well tuned, will you Wheeljack?" While Ratchet has fans whirring and heat waves rolling off him, Wheeljack just laughs.

"Keeping him well oiled?" Wheeljack's side-panels strobe with his chuckles, "I'll have to check the equipment before I make a final decision." 

And with that, he grabs the still sputtering medic and drags him off for a test drive.

* * *

_You better hurry up and order one._

_Our limited supply is very nearly gone!_

* * *

Notes: "_Do you sleep alone…very nearly gone" _lyrics and title from "The Big Bright Green Pleasure Machine", Simon & Garfunkel

"_Oo, I want you…"_- "I Want You" by Savage Garden

I tried to make the tone as lighthearted and cracky as possible, but it's not a type of humor I've ever written before. I imagine Bee giving a huge thumbs up when he pitches this idea of Earth flavored energon to a skeptical Ratchet, and the joke of the "Strong Soys" is of course the new rage in 'sustainable' (some more than others) biofeuls. 


End file.
